The Status Game
by OccasionallyRestless
Summary: A simple drama exercise: pick a card and embody the status it represents. This character study focuses on Kurt Hummel and thirteen moments in his life, describing his growth from a lowly Ace to a King. Ranges from kid! to future!fic. Canon compliant.
1. Ace

****Big disclaimer: **don't own Glee so don't sue**

**AN: **This is an idea I have floating around: each chapter describes a particular moment in Kurt's life where his personal status is at a certain point, ranging from kid! to future! to canon!fic. As for chapter sizes - most probably drabbles or short chapters unless I get carried away. I don't know if there'd be a lot of interest in an idea like this and it'd end up being kinda long (for me) so...just wanna know if it's worth the time, really. Let me know!

* * *

><p><strong>The Status Game<strong>

_A person's growth is not linear. It's not a simple ascent from point A to point B.  
>The path is a mixture of highs and lows; of good, bad and mediocre days.<br>Just remember: after every dip there is a climb to a new peak. _

* * *

><p><strong>Ace<strong>

_October 2000_

The sun shone down all over the little park, a light breeze shaking the leaves in the trees and making the ones that'd fallen roll and race each other across the grass. Six-year-old Kurt Hummel loved the leaves when they turned all brown and red like this – his mommy had hair that was their exact colour and some days he would spend a long time just finding one that was the _exact _exact colour and show it to her with pride and excitement.

His mommy kept all the leaves he'd taken her in a book in her desk. Kurt didn't know why but it made him feel special and today he was determined to find the best one he'd ever found.

He skipped away from his parents after they'd reminded him not to go too far, heading for the line of trees near the slide. There were lots of leaves around him but he knew, from all the experience a six-year-old could have, that chasing them made him tired and upset because he could hardly ever catch one unless he _leapt _on it. But that made his clothes dirty and today he was wearing the brand new bow tie his daddy had bought him and he didn't want to ruin it, so Kurt headed happily towards the big piles of leaves right under the trees.

There were so many! Kurt's eyes widened – it could take him _years _before he found the perfect one. The sound of laughter and playful shouting surrounded him as he began to sift through the leaves, crouching down carefully as he looked through the pile. His little brow furrowed in concentration as every now and then he set one aside in a 'maybe' pile, using a stick to keep them from being blown away by the wind. He was so focused on his search that he didn't hear the crunching of the leaves as someone approached him, didn't notice the shadow darken the ground around him, didn't notice anything until small hands pushed him roughly to the ground.

"Oops, _sorry_. I didn't see you. I didn't know anyone would be here touching dirty old leaves."

Kurt slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, eyes welling with tears as he struggled not to cry. Crying only made Micah laugh at him even more.

"Hey what's that thing round your neck?"

Kurt wrapped his arms around his middle and brought his legs up to his chest. Maybe if he kept still the older boy would get bored and leave. _Please go away._

"Hey, answer me!" Micah kicked Kurt's leg, leaving a muddy trail on the fabric. Kurt's lip trembled.

"I-it's a bow tie-"

"A _bow? _Bows are for _girls. _Boys don't wear bows. Give it," the boy leant down and grabbed at the small navy blue bow and Kurt let him, flinching slightly as the clip gave way and Micah immediately threw it somewhere behind where Kurt was sitting. He tightened his arms so they were pressing even harder into his waist, holding him together.

"Start wearing normal clothes or I'll get you again," and after another swift kick to Kurt's leg, Micah was gone.

Kurt wanted to stand up and yell that actually boys _did_ wear bow ties and so did men when they got all dressed up when they were going out to dinner or a dance like in that black and white movie his mom watched. He wanted to fight back but he didn't. He couldn't because that would make the other boy mad and then he'd come back and Kurt liked it when Micah was _away._ He couldn't because he couldn't talk back - every time he started to talk back, Micah would just get even meaner and Kurt never wanted that to happen again.

Instead, he wiped shakily at the tear tracks on his cheeks and pushed himself to his feet.

It was stupid anyway, looking for leaves; he'd never seen anyone else doing it. Maybe if he stopped and did what the other boys did then they'd stop picking on him every day.

His lip was trembling again.

When Kurt found his bow tie, it was lying right next to a leaf which was the exact colour he'd been looking for. He didn't even notice.


	2. Eight

**AN:** I have no idea if American schools have anything like Winter Fairs but...roll with it?

* * *

><p><strong>The Status Game<strong>

_Death ends a life, not a relationship ~ Mitch Albom_

* * *

><p><strong>Eight<strong>

_December 2006_

Snowflake garlands, paper chains, miniature Christmas trees and various other decorations filled each classroom, teasing the students with the promise of a holiday just over the horizon. The cafeteria menu was adding to the festivity with its offerings of pies and gingerbread and amongst the children there was a constant buzz of excitement and anticipation.

For Kurt this time of year was more melancholic than it should be for a thirteen-year-old. Now it was just him and his dad, the house – even with it's _very _fashionable yet homey decorations – always felt too small. It wasn't as bad now as it had been at first when the mere idea of laughter or joy seemed repulsive and wrong, definitely not. It was just…different. Like his mom's absence became more pronounced. But they worked hard to celebrate: cooking together as Kurt kept a watchful eye on his culinary-challenged father, or settling on the sofa together to watch a movie.

Christmas at the Hummel's may be a quiet affair but the tradition and familiarity of it always filled Kurt's heart with warmth.

Besides, what kid didn't love presents?

It was the start of the last week of school and the excitement was palpable. Teachers became more lenient as the kids exchanged cards and gifts, many counting theirs in a silent popularity contest. As the bell rang on Kurt's music class he began packing his bag, pausing when the teacher called out to him: "Kurt, can I have a word before you go?"

With a small frown he made his way to the front desk – they hadn't had any homework for him to forget so he didn't have any idea what his teacher wanted. "Yes Mrs Roper?"

The woman smiled at him warmly as she straightened the sheet music on her desk. "I was wondering if you were taking any part in the Winter Fair on Saturday?"

The fair was something the school held at the start of Christmas break and students often volunteered to help run the various stalls and games. Kurt shook his head, "Um no. I mean, I was planning on going but…no."

"Well, then I'd like to ask you to sing with the choir."

His eyes widened at the offer, "But I-I'm not part of the choir."

Mrs Roper looked at him over the rims of her glasses – they were designer, Kurt noticed. Chanel. There was a warmth in her eyes that caused his throat to constrict: "I don't know why you aren't," she said softly. "I've heard you in class, Kurt, you have a beautiful voice and I'd love you to take the lead in a song – just one. What do you think?"

Kurt felt himself blush at her compliment and lowered his gaze to the floor. He adored singing, the emotion he felt as the notes passed his lips and took some of his worry and sadness with them was pure freedom. That was why he always gave his all in class, even when they were just singing carols like they had been earlier. He loved singing, he'd just never been told he was _good _before - except by his dad, but parents were meant to say that kind of thing. But for the compliment to come from a music teacher, from his _favourite_ teacher…

It was a wonderful feeling. He was warm down to his toes.

He'd been silent for too long and Mrs Roper spoke up. "There's no pressure. If you want to say no you can, or if you want to think about it overnight-"

"No! I mean – yes. Please. I'd like to sing." His teacher's answering smile spread wide across her features.

"Thank you, Kurt, really. I think you'll be a wonderful addition," he blushed again, a small smile tugging at his lips. "How about we meet during lunch tomorrow to talk about songs and start practicing?"

Kurt bit his lip and shifted slightly. "Actually I, um, I know what song I'd like to sing. If that's okay."

* * *

><p>The twinkling lights that adorned each booth glittered as Saturday evening fell over the fair. It was almost time for the choir to go onstage and Kurt, with as much practice as he could possibly fit in in less than a week, was ready.<p>

"Okay kid, you gonna tell me why you're all jumpy? You didn't have coffee did you?"

"No, dad. I'm fine. Let's head towards the stage, I think the choir's starting soon."

Kurt hadn't told him about his solo, he'd wanted it to be surprise but now that nerves were fluttering in his chest he wished his dad could offer some words of encouragement. They reached the little raised platform just as Mrs Roper led the choir on, arranging them in neat lines as families and friends huddled together. Kurt snaked through the crowd, leading his dad right to the front before turning to face him with a nervous smile: "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Kurt? Where-" Burt watched with a confused frown as his son joined the choir. The air was filled with laughter and conversation that quickly died down as Mrs Roper came to the front.

"Good evening everyone, I hope you've enjoyed the Winter Fair! To help round off the day, the choir has a few songs for you – starting with a very special carol led by Kurt Hummel."

Kurt hesitantly moved to centre stage, smiling weakly at his teacher as she stepped off to the side. To him the small crowd suddenly looked disinterested and intimidating and he felt his nerves kick up a notch. His eyes rested briefly on the surprised expression on his father's face before he closed them and took a deep breath.

He thought about his mom – her perfume, the way her laugh would echo around their kitchen when she and Kurt baked together, her voice when she sang her favourite carol softly into his ear when he was curled into her lap on Christmas eve:

_Hark the herald angels sing…_

His voice rang into the frosty evening, pitch-perfect and strong. After a moment, the familiarity of the song soothed his nerves and he opened his eyes, his gaze immediately falling on his dad who was watching him with a small smile and eyes full of affection and pride. Kurt smiled in return, his voice only growing stronger as the choir joined him on the second verse.

The other members of the crowd were smiling too and holding their loved ones close but he didn't notice – his gaze never left his father and his mind was full of memories.

_Her lifting him up so he could decorate the top of the tree; watching his dad chase her round the house with mistletoe; watching her cook; learning the words to carols._

When the song finished, Kurt left the stage to a smattering of applause. He barely registered the wetness on his dad's cheeks before he was pulled into a tight hug. "You've got some voice on you, kiddo," there was a pause and then Kurt heard it whispered gently: "Your mom would be so proud."

A bubble of happiness swelled in his chest and he just smiled and held onto his dad tighter. And when Kurt closed his eyes, he could almost feel her watching them with a warm smile.


	3. Three

**AN: **totally dedicated to** perchance to wake **for being my only reviewer :) I've become really weirdly invested in this story, otherwise I'd just stop so...yeah, enjoy I guess. Feedback would be awesome.

* * *

><p><strong>The Status Game<strong>

_Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect ~ Margaret Mitchell_

* * *

><p><strong>Three<strong>

_September 2009_

From day one, life at high school was definitely not what Kurt had been expecting.

_Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam._

Every day it was the same. It was remarkably consistent throughout his first year; he shouldn't have expected the second to be any different but he'd had slight hope, though unacknowledged. But on the first day back, it was as if he'd never left.

_Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam._

Eventually it became a part of his daily routine. When the jocks occasionally missed him in the hallways, or during that one week when the slushie machine was out of order, something felt _not quite right _because at the end of the day he still had his head held high.

_Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam._

He lost count of the items of clothes that were ruined beyond repair, the amount of times his eyes burned with red dye, the number of bruises that bloomed and healed across his back and shoulders. The number of times he cried himself to sleep.

_Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam._

It was the aftermath that was the worst. At school he had his pride and the strength not to break down in front of his peers; but at night in his bed, curled under the covers with knees pulled tight to his chest, he had no one to hide from and the strength melted away. It was these nights that were filled with _why does this have to happen? Why can't they leave me alone? Please let it get better, please, it has to get better…_

_Dumpster._

He tried to squash the hope that rose in him every morning that maybe today would be the day things would change. Maybe-

_Slushie._

-someone would notice and help him because he was unable to help himself. Maybe today would be the day that he could slip into blissful anonymity within the school and avoid everything and everyone.

_Locker._

_Please let it get better. Please. It has to get better._


	4. Five

**AN: **all speech here is directly quoted from 1x04 'Preggers.' sorry about the age between updates, life is insane right now but I'm determined to finish this so here's the next chapter.  
>Feedback would be cherished and adored!<p>

* * *

><p><strong>The Status Game<strong>

_It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not ~ André Gide_

* * *

><p><strong>Five<strong>

_September 2009_

Kurt stared at his father and felt his hands tremble. He'd said it. _It. _The truth of who he was. He'd said it and now his whole world hung in the balance as he waited for the only person he was close to, the only person he truly loved, to respond.

_I'm gay._

The words had tumbled out in a rush, spurred on by the adrenaline high from winning the football game and of knowing that for once he'd made his dad proud. No matter what happened now, he wouldn't forget seeing his dad standing and cheering _for him._

He'd told Mercedes but somehow the words felt heavier now than they had then, and the pause before her answer hadn't gone as slowly. How much time had passed – seconds? Minutes? He couldn't tell, couldn't look away from eyes that might at any moment be looking at him in hatred and disgust.

_I'm gay._

He knew it could go badly – words like _fag _and _disappointment _and _wrong _hissed out in hatred, searing black marks into his skin and heart so he tried to stop himself from hoping, tried to prepare himself for the worst but this was his _dad _and he couldn't help his heart skipping as he took a step closer. _Please, _he thought desperately, _please, dad, please._

"I know."

_What?_ "R-really?"

"I've known since you were three."

Kurt listened as his dad spoke about _sensible heels _and _if that's who you are _and _I love you just as much._

That was the phrase that sent tears spilling over his cheeks. _I love you just as much._

When his dad pulled him into a hug, Kurt wanted to laugh. He wanted to jump around and sing and shout from the rooftops that he was loved. He wanted to bake and fill the usual silence of their house with chatter and never wipe the smile from his face – but he could do all that later. Right now he was holding on to his dad with a tight grip and he had never felt so grateful in his life.

He knew it wouldn't be easy, that although he had finally accepted himself it didn't mean others would take the lead and follow. The bullying would continue, it may even get worse, but he had his dad on his side and that was the most important thing he could wish for because it meant their house could be his haven, his safe place, and he'd have someone that would listen if he ever needed it. Kurt hadn't realised how much that idea meant to him until now.

His grasp tightened around his dad for a moment before they separated and he smiled as his dad thanked him, then paused and asked him if he was sure.

"Yeah, dad, I'm sure."

"I'm just checking."

Kurt watched as he slowly treaded the steps up out the basement and let out a relieved sigh, a small laugh passing his lips. So maybe his dad wasn't completely okay with the idea, but he was obviously willing to try and that meant the world.

_Thank you._


	5. Nine

**AN: **two updates in one day, go me. also this one's kind of proper chapter sized, guess I got a little carried away...hope you enjoy! Reviews are like hugs - you can never have too many.

* * *

><p><strong>The Status Game<strong>

_If it were not for hope, the heart would break ~ Thomas Fuller_

* * *

><p><strong>Nine<strong>

_October 2009_

The ringing bell signalled the end of another week at McKinley and Kurt gathered his books with barely concealed enthusiasm before half-running out the door to his locker. Mr Schue had cancelled Glee for the evening, which only meant that he and Mercedes had more time to prepare for the event that was the highlight of Kurt Hummel's year.

Having grabbed everything he needed, he slammed his locker closed without the customary glance at his hair and quickly made his way over to Mercedes, who was shoving a book into her bag.

"So, are you ready for the magical experience that is the _'Sing-a-Long Sound of Music'_?" he bounced excitedly as she turned to him, but his smile slipped a little at her guilty expression. "What?"

She shook her head slowly, brow furrowing as she leant heavily against her locker with a sigh. "Kurt, I can't _believe_ I forgot to tell you – my church is having a dinner to raise money tonight and my parents really want me to go."

"B-But we were gonna dress up! And we could sing louder than everyone else, and I'd even share some of that buttery, artery-clogging popcorn if you want and-"

"I know, Kurt, and I'm sorry – you _know _I was gonna go with you but…you can still go." He rolled his eyes. "No, seriously, you should go anyway. Get your groove on – you know you wanna show off that voice of yours. I won't take no for an answer," she glared at him a little when he started to protest. Kurt shut his mouth with a small huff and she smiled, hooking her arm through his and steering them to the exit. "Great! I expect a full recount tomorrow – terrible costumes, even more terrible singing, everything, 'kay?"

"Yes ma'am. Don't think you're completely off the hook though. You at least owe me coffee!" she laughed a little at this.

"Boy you drink too much of that stuff for your own good, but yes if that'll make it up to you I promise to buy you coffee. Now go – you've got a movie to prepare for!" She pushed him towards his car and they separated, Mercedes waving at him briefly as he drove out of the lot.

As he drove, he considered not going but the thought was immediately dismissed – he'd been looking forward to this for months, and it was tradition now anyway. He'd gone every year since he was twelve and although he'd always gone with his dad, or last year with Rachel (unmitigated disaster in every way), he wasn't completely put off by the idea of going alone. It made him feel sort of…mature and responsible.

Because every mature, responsible adult goes to the annual _Sing-a-Long Sound of Music._

* * *

><p>The sing-a-long was held in an actual theatre that had been converted and Kurt loved it. All the original décor had been kept – the seats were rows of red with gold trim, and the arch surrounding the screen was covered in golden filigree designs of vines and leaves around a central crest. Even the original red velvet curtains were still there, and at the beginning of each movie they would draw back to reveal the screen.<p>

He couldn't wish for a better substitute for live theatre. Although he did wish he didn't _have _to substitute it, but overall the experience was one he relished. Being in an actual theatre in front of what had been an actual stage gave a heightened sense of the audience member's relationship to one another, which was perfect for a sing-a-long.

Kurt stood in the ticket queue, surveying the crowd around him. It was composed mainly of parents with young children, and what looked like a teacher accompanying her class, but hardly anyone around his age barring a small group of teens standing and laughing together in the corner. He felt a flash of loneliness but quickly pushed it away and narrowed his eyes at them. _I hope they're not planning to talk all the way through._

One of the girls noticed his glare and he looked away quickly and moved forward in the line, unaware that one member of the group's attention was on him.

He reached the front and only had to wait a moment until one of the two windows was free. Quickly replacing the mother and her small child in front of the window, he glanced up and almost gaped as the _very _cute boy behind the counter smiled warmly at him, "Two for the sing-a-long?"

"Uh no, just one," the boy's eyes widened a little in surprise but he covered it with another smile and a soft apology as he began typing details on the computer in front of him. Kurt frowned a little, handing over the money when the boy asked and completely missing the once-over he gave Kurt.

When the ticket started printing, he couldn't keep the question in anymore. "Why did you think I needed two tickets?"

The boy's eyes dropped to the counter as he laughed nervously and shrugged. "I dunno…I guess I just assumed that a guy like you wouldn't be here alone."

Kurt raised his brow and the boy flushed slightly, digging Kurt's change from the register and ripping his ticket from the printer with a practiced flourish. "Sorry, I just meant-I mean, you look really good so I thought you were here with a date," his voice was so quiet near the end that Kurt was almost certain he'd made the words up.

_Did he just say I looked really good?_

When Kurt didn't respond, the boy glanced up with a sheepish smile, "Sorry, I-uh-here," he held out the ticket and a few bills.

Kurt quickly forced himself to stop staring and reached for them, only a moment later his eyes flickered up to the boy's again in surprise as he purposefully grazed Kurt's fingers with his own. "Enjoy the movie," he murmured.

The next thing Kurt knew he was walking away from the ticket booth with vaguely unsteady steps. He glanced behind him and saw the boy watching him before his attention was taken by the next customer. He swallowed hard and quickly made his way to the bathroom.

The stalls were empty, so Kurt stood in front of the mirror and stared blindly at himself in shock, mind whirring.

Had he just been _flirted _with?

He focused on his outfit – seeing as he'd come alone, he'd forgone the costume in favour of black skinny jeans and a white shirt with a silver and navy striped tie under a grey vest, all covered by his black pea coat which was currently undone and hanging gracefully on his frame. He was quite partial to the outfit himself, but that _someone else _had complimented it - a cute boy, nonetheless…

For some reason, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of hope. He'd always been alone, or always felt alone in that particular way, and the fact that he'd been complimented so openly and honestly had taken him completely by surprise.

Kurt wasn't completely maudlin, he was just realistic. He knew he wasn't tragic looking, but as a gay teen in a stifling, small-minded town in Ohio he had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't experience any vaguely romantic attention until he moved away for college to somewhere more accepting. So to experience it here, when he wasn't even expecting or hoping for it was absolutely ridiculous. Insane.

Amazing.

_Exhilarating._

A small smile lit his features and Kurt could feel himself fill with a kind of confidence he'd never felt before. He strolled out of the bathroom and followed the crowd filtering into the theatre.

His mood was so bright that he barely even noticed when a couple of the teens he'd noticed earlier threw popcorn at him when he sang louder than everyone else, only to be stopped by their friend – a boy, who focused on the image of Kurt a couple rows in front more often than on the screen. Even at the end of the movie Kurt didn't let the bustling crowd and noisy children annoy him, he just hummed to himself and flushed a little when the boy behind the counter smiled at him when he walked past.

And, well, if Kurt's mood was so bright that he didn't realise the curly haired boy (the one who'd stopped his friends throwing popcorn) was hurrying after him only to be held back by the crowd and watch with disappointed hazel eyes as Kurt drove away…who can blame him?


	6. Four

**AN: **as I was writing this it became clear to me that, unlike other chapters, it had to be in present tense. I think it makes the situation seem more surreal and almost more desperate, which fits with what I think Kurt was going through. In my view, whenever he looks back at this moment it will be like he's reliving it, reliving the emotion, and so present tense seemed more fitting. Just thought I'd explain in case it annoys anyone - there is reasoning behind it, I swear!

All recognisable speech is from 2x03 'Grilled Cheesus.' Reviews are love.

* * *

><p><strong>The Status Game<strong>

_No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear ~ C S Lewis_

* * *

><p><strong>Four<strong>

_October 2010_

Numb. His whole body is numb, his mind whirring in denial. This can't be happening – the man on the hospital bed isn't Burt Hummel. It isn't his dad. It can't be.

_D-Dad?_

They'd only spoken that morning and he'd been fine, he'd been _fine. _So this can't be happening. In a minute one of the nurses will come in and press a button and take the tubes out from under his skin and his dad will jump up and scold him for not waking him sooner.

_C-Can you hear me?_

Of course he could hear him, there wasn't anything wrong, he's _fine_. Kurt berates himself for even asking the question, berates the tears clouding his vision and the shakiness of his hand as he reaches for his dad's, lying still and limp on the covers. It's only when it lies unresponsive in his own that Kurt can't deny it anymore, not when it usually grasps his tight in response.

When he feels his dad's hand unmoving in his grasp, Kurt's walls shatter and he almost buckles under the fear he'd refused to fully acknowledge because he'd convinced himself it was fine, that everything was fine.

He can't pretend anymore.

"Come on, dad, just squeeze my hand," he says.

_You can't leave me, dad, please don't leave me, _he pleads.

* * *

><p>Days pass in a blur, buzzing by in a montage of empty houses, the pointless prayers of his peers, sterile hospital walls and the monotonous beeping of machines. And all the while the only thing Kurt can focus on is the last moment he'd shared with his dad.<p>

_I gotta tell you Kurt, I'm real disappointed in you._

He tries not to think it but it runs around his mind like a record that's skipping, repeating the same phrase over and over until the guilt and regret feels like it's splitting his heart in two.

He tries not to think that those could be the last words his dad ever says to him, but he's unable to keep his guilty conscience from invading his mind and his dreams become nightmares that reduce his sleeping pattern to naps that last no more than a few hours.

Most nights, he climbs into his dad's bed and rubs his tear stained cheeks dry before just lying there feeling wide awake and incredibly tired at the same time.

* * *

><p>After a few days, the emptiness of his house isn't such a shock, the trips to the hospital are routine and the constant emotional baseline of hopelessness is the norm. He hates it, hates himself for thinking that any of this is remotely <em>normal. <em>Normal is catching his dad trying to sneak a snack before dinner, normal is visiting the garage after school because he's been asked to help out, normal is shouting goodbye as he leaves for school in the morning.

Normal isn't this-this _parody _of a life. There isn't another way to describe it – he feels like he's living the plotline of a teen drama: losing the one source of support he has just when he needs it the most, making him question the life he knew.

He'd never thought of his father as vulnerable before. Burt is and has always been a solid, strong presence. The idea that underneath all of that his heart was weakening makes Kurt wonder how he can ever trust the appearance of health again. And then his friends are asking him to trust in a figure that he can't see and how can he do that when he can't trust what he _does _see?

All he has is a tenuous hold on hope, and a belief in the strongest person he knows.

_I don't believe in God, dad, but I believe in you. And I believe in us: you and me. That's what's sacred to me. And I am-I'm so sorry that I never got to tell you that. _

When the hand in his moves very slightly, he thinks he's imagining it.

_Dad? _

That evening, when his dad finally opens his eyes and weakly calls out Kurt's name, it's the first time he's smiled since Mr Schuester interrupted his French class.

_Dad I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere._


End file.
